Shine
by jokermobile
Summary: Pavel Chekov is like a bright light to the crew of the Enterprise. What happens when their light starts fading? Kirk/Chekov


It started with the panic attacks. Pavel had been at his control when his chest started tightening. He felt like he couldn't breathe, and his digits lost feeling. He'd stumbled to the sick bay without asking permission to leave, afraid he was dying. "You seem to have had a panic attack—probably brought on by stress," Bones had said. "Take it easy for a while, alright, kid?"

When Jim heard the news, he'd freaked. He forced Pavel to take leave for the next week and get some rest. "I don't want anyone on my ship working themselves to death—especially you," he'd said.

Except that…Pavel couldn't sleep, and as a consequence, neither could Jim. Jim would coax Pavel to sleep each night with warm tea and back rubs, but still the boy would wake, in the middle of the night, Jim awakening next to him, and leave the room. Jim would try to fall back asleep and try inot/i to wonder where his navigator had gone, and try _not_ to wonder what kept the boy up at night.

The second time had been in his quarters during his prescribed week off. This time, he'd just been lying on his bed reading when it happened—nothing stressful at all. He'd felt it coming on and started breathing deeply like Bones had suggested, but it only delayed the symptoms. He began to feel claustrophobic and left his quarters, then realized he had nowhere to go. He was on a ship, and no matter how big the ship, he had a limited amount of space he could go. He couldn't go outside, feel the cool air on his face, see the sun. Not doing anything was causing him as much stress as doing too much had, and worse than that, he felt useless. The spelling and counting and sorting and hoarding had all begun at an early age, and he was used to it, but this feeling was new, and it scared the living crap out of him. Still, he was living his dream—working on a starship for the better of the universe, and at such a young age (his teachers had always said he had a gift with numbers. That might've explained in part the counting and sorting and hoarding, but it did not explain the spelling), and he wasn't going to let a little anxiety stop him. Of course, falling in love with his captain had never been part of his plan.

Their first time had been quick and hot in the captain's chair. It didn't take long for them to stop having sex and start making love. It took even less time for the rest of the crew to catch on.

Uhura noticed first. The looks and subtle gestures between them hadn't been enough to solidify her suspicions, but watching the way they interacted when they thought they were alone had been. So, maybe she shouldn't have been spying, but when you see your captain leaning toward his navigator with his hand on the boy's, you stop to watch. Uhura was just glad that the kid seemed to have diverted Jim's attentions from her.

Gossip spread as fast on the Enterprise as they had at the Academy, and soon everyone knew about the captain and his young ensign. Of course, it didn't stop the rumor mill when Pavel started sleeping in Kirk's room, but to the crew's credit, none of them mentioned it to either party; they obviously didn't want a big deal made of it or they would've announced it—not to mention Chekov still being underage when they started hooking up. The truth was; everyone in the crew loved them both in their own way. Even Uhura, begrudgingly, had begun to feel a strong sense of camaraderie toward Kirk (it probably helped that he'd stopped trying to hit on her). So the whole crew felt it when things started to fall apart.

Since Kirk knew that Chekov would never admit to needing help, he was the one to talk to Bones. He told his friend about Pavel's difficulties sleeping, and McCoy made not one comment about his friends' sleeping arrangements as he handed Jim a bottle of sleeping pills.

Both Chekov and Kirk started sleeping after that. Except…that was around when the confusion started, and Pavel started having trouble distinguishing between his real thoughts and memories and those he'd had in a dream. His thoughts seemed more jumbled than usual, and although he remained an effective and talented navigator, all he could imagine while at his post was something happening to the ship and all of them dying. He and Sulu would be the first to go. They'd fly forward into their control panels, their bones shattering as they died almost instantly. The rest of the crew would be thrown from their seats, and then the Enterprise would catch fire, or maybe it'd be punctured, and a vacuum into space would form, and Uhura's scream would be cut short…

And then he'd be back on the bridge, reassuring himself that they weren't about to die.

The whole crew knew something was wrong with Chekov, but none of them felt it as strongly as the man who shared a bed with him or the man who'd lost track of the number of times Chekov came to him thinking he was sick or dying. Once, it was meningitis. Chekov had gone to Bones complaining of a stiff neck and fatigue. When McCoy examined him, he found nothing wrong, and merely suggested to rest his neck sometimes. Another time, it was his brain. Chekov had told the doctor he thought there was something in his head, and that he could _feel it moving_ sometimes. "I know there's something in there," he'd said, "and I want it out." The tests had come back clean. One time, he'd thought an ear infection would kill him. He'd also convinced himself of being HIV positive. McCoy had tested Jim, too, just to be safe, but they both came back negative. And that was just a sampling.

One day, Chekov finally lost it. Kirk had found him in his room, dry-sobbing and ripping his arm to shreds with his fingernails. Jim had run to the boy's side and taken him in his arms, trying to separate his arm from his nails. Pavel bit into Jim's hand with all of his strength, and Jim had pulled away in pain, but would still rather have Pavel hurt him than himself. Jim's pained reaction must've pulled Chekov back to reality, because he stopped struggling and looked up into Jim's eyes. His eyes fell to Kirk's hand and widened in horror. "Captain…" He paused, at a loss for words. "Jim, I'm so sorry."  
Kirk cradled the ensign in his arms and shushed him. "It's alright, Pavel. It's going to be fine."

Once McCoy had treated Chekov's wounded arm and put him to bed with a sedative, he began working on Jim's hand.  
"Isn't there something you can give him?" Kirk asked. "Just give him a pill and he'll be all better?"  
"Dammit, Jim, what do you expect? Some magic potion? I'm a doctor, not a mind-reader!"  
"I just…" Jim sighed. "I just want him to get better."  
"And I can't guarantee that'll happen so long as he's on this ship."  
Jim met eyes with his friend. "What do you mean?"  
"You're not going to like my answer, Jim."  
Jim smiled. "Maybe I'll need a drink first, then."  
Bones poured them each some brandy, sipped some of his, then continued. "I can't help him anymore," he said, "but there are people who can." He scanned his best friend. "Jim, you can't let personal feelings prevent you from giving the kid what he needs."

Kirk was in his room, throwing things and letting off streams of curse words that would shame a case of Tourette syndrome. The crew was used to their captain "Kirking out," as McCoy had so lovingly dubbed it, but they'd never seen anything like this.

"Fuck!" he shouted, punching the wall with all his force—an action he immediately regretted. He gently prodded his hand to make sure nothing was broken, wincing as he did so. He heard his door slide open and regretted not locking it. Still, nobody was stupid enough to interrupt him during one of his moods (even Spock had learned quickly). He turned to see Pavel. "Oh. Uh, hey."  
"Hi." Pavel approached him, glancing at his hand. "How is your hand?"  
"Fine, it's fine." He didn't know whether Pavel referred to the bite or the painful punch, but it didn't matter. Looking at Pavel's face right then, he wasn't sure he could do it.  
His expression must have spoken for him, because Pavel wrapped his arms around the older man's waist and whispered, "You're sending me away, aren't you?"  
Jim cupped the boy's face in his hands and looked into his eyes. "We need to make sure you get better."

"Beam us down, Scotty," Kirk ordered. "I'm planning on staying the night if I can."  
"Aye, Captain." Scotty hesitated, then, on impulse walked up to the platform and pulled the young ensign into an embrace. "I'm sure going to miss you, lad," he said. He pulled away and awkwardly returned to the console. "I'll see you soon, Captain." The two men on the platform dissolved into swirls of dust.

Jim took a deep breath as he read the door of the building they approached. Federation Mental Treatment Facility #389. Quite a mouthful. Back on Earth, loony bins had much _simpler_ names—Babbling Brooks or Hidden Oaks or some shit like that; something to do with nature, so as to create a false sense of calm. No peace was to be found here—at least, not for Kirk. The thought of leaving Pavel—_his_ Pavel—in such a place chilled him to the bone. For all the people he'd dated and fucked, he'd never been in love, which made this all the more difficult.

The bed in Chekov's room was a twin bed, and it was also equipped with a chair and table. Kirk squeezed next to Chekov in the bed. He didn't care how uncomfortable they'd be (even in Jim's King Sized bed back on the ship, Jim took all the space and Pavel took all the blankets); he was just glad Pavel wouldn't have to sleep alone his first night there.

They made love twice that night, talking for a while between goes, but even as they lay there, exhausted and sweating in each others' arms, it felt like twice was not enough. Nothing could have been enough, except for climbing into each others' bodies and becoming one…

Jim desperately kissed his beloved's neck, shoulders, collarbone, anywhere his mouth could reach, for fear that he'd never get the chance again. When they finally started drifting off, Jim whispered, "I love you, Pasha. Don't ever forget it."  
Pavel fell asleep in Jim's arms with those words in his mind, and he knew that no matter what happened from then on out—that whether or not he returned to his post at the Enterprise, that whether it took him ten months or ten years to get out of this place, that whether or not they even saw each other again, from that moment on, his soul would forever and always belong to James T. Kirk…

The next day, he awoke alone.


End file.
